


in the endless void of night i lie awake

by purebloodied



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 1950/60s au, Fluff, M/M, PWP Porn without Plot, PWP plot what plot, Smut, angbang, calling him mairon instead of sauron, mairon is french, melkor fought in WW2, melkor is finish, rp au i have with a friend, serial killer au, slaughter husbands, with them everything looks like fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purebloodied/pseuds/purebloodied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melkor can't sleep. The wrath and ruin he once followed across the battlefield of Europe with a smile now tend to haunt his sleep.<br/>Only the sensation of a waning pulse beneath his fingers can bring him some peace of mind.<br/>That or Mairon's touch on his skin.</p><p> </p><p>A glimpse behind the curtain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the endless void of night i lie awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/gifts).



He can’t sleep. It’s one of those dream-haunted nights. Melkor stands naked by the window, another American mega city lies speckled with sickly flickering yellow some fifty floors below in the darkness of the night – the soulless mummer’s farce of a starry night sky. He frowns at the image and puts another cigarette between his lips, lights it and inhales misty blue smoke into his lungs.

 

They are always on the move. As yet, no place has kept them entertained and everything bores them after only a few days. And Mairon is insufferable when bored. Melkor watches amber eyes and adores the elaborately rude words clinging to perfect lips, Finish cuss words a novel adornment to his companion’s French rants. Mairon loves to yell at Americans in all the foreign tongues he knows they won’t understand. Melkor only smiles and takes Mairon someplace else.

Luckily, their line of work keeps them busy and on the road, off to the next agglomeration of human filth within the next few days. They walk alongside in the shadows. Black strains of dried blood pave their path. They are gods of wrath and ruin among mortals. Taking a life is satisfaction. And it’s this so very human hatred for one another that Melkor and Mairon profit from. Another slit throat makes yet another fortune for themselves. 

 

Eventually, he turns around, cigarette still between his lips, an ember glow in the blackness of their room. Melkor marvels at the slender body, lying half-naked and asleep on top of the covers of the large bed. Waves of blond locks frame the face of a boy-god. Fair innocence whose very glance could cripple and kill, whose full lips split for a cruel smile at the sight of spilled blood. And Melkor isn’t sure whether he is a willing servant to his whims or the devil who seduces and corrupts such beauty. 

In the end Mairon’s hunger is just like his own and their lust for those dark depths of the other’s mind is what binds them together.

Quietly he moves through the room and sits down beside the sleeping form, curves and muscles only scarcely illuminated by the sickly light of a city by night. And yet it is perfection. Melkor inclines his head ever so slightly, his long open hair moves over the bare skin of his broad back and makes him shudder before he lifts his hand and touches. Cautiously he runs gentle fingers through blond long curls, fanned out on the embroidered pillow like a halo and then he touches pale skin, smooth like marble and warm with live. Chaste fingers trace a path along the inside of Mairon’s arms, along the slender fingers of his hands and across his forehead. 

 

Then amber eyes flutter open and a lazy smile curls around chiselled lips, slightly parted to allow a quiet sigh to slip past before Mairon’s body curves and leans into the touch of strong hands. Melkor moves closer, allows both of his hands to run over chest and stomach and sides and over hips down to slender thighs; pushing the towel wrapped around a slender waist out of his way as he does so. 

Melkor never knew he liked to touch. But then he never knew true perfection before he laid his eyes on Mairon. Before he witnessed the harsh beauty of a cruel angel, adorned with amber eyes void of mercy and blessed with a fiery spirit that is only pleased when the warmth of bright red drops is on his lips and cheeks and chest. 

 

“Don’t stop.” Marion’s demand is quiet and spoken with velvet in his voice as he lifts his hands to touch Melkor’s bare shoulders and pull him down. Melkor allows it and revels in the sublime sensation of Mairon’s slender body and smooth skin beneath his own; the way their bodies fit, Mairon’s legs wrapped around his waist and the way their hard cocks touch when they grind their hips together. 

Right now, everything is wet and warm and glorious and Melkor groans into their kiss, bites down hard on Mairon’s bottom lip and is rewarded with a wanton moan. He answers with a triumphant sound and almost chokes on it when in reply a cold, slender hand wraps skilled fingers around both their erections, rubbing them together, squeezing them gently but just enough to spark pleasurable pain in his groin.  
Melkor looks at Mairon and smiles as he reads a challenge in his lover’s gaze.

They move in unison. Mairon sets their pace. Melkor wraps his arms around slender shoulders and closes his eyes, allows sensation to take over. The edge of manicured painted nails bites into his back; draws red lines along his pale skin and Melkor comes with a strangled moan. His lips rest against Mairon’s perfect mouth as he shudders with his orgasm. When he opens his eyes and looks at the beautiful man beneath him the challenge from before has morphed into smug triumph. 

Melkor licks his lips and forces Mairon’s slender hand out of the way, wraps his own rough fingers around the length of his lover’s pre-come dripping cock. His rhythm is harsh and fast but the way Mairon pushes his head into the pillow and curves his spine tells Melkor he likes it. He watches for a moment longer, then he leans down and licks at Marion’s lips before he pushes his nose into the crook of a slender neck and buries his teeth in white marble flesh, bites down on it until he can taste blood and feel Mairon’s sticky wet come on his fingers.

 

They curl into each other afterwards. Mairon is half on top of Melkor and their embrace is tight. Finally the night is without dreams.


End file.
